


i'm gonna have to learn (that this love will never be convenient)

by parrotfish_elliot



Category: A.P. Bio (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character(s), Briefly Insulting Toledo, Jack Griffin is a Goddamn Idiot, M/M, Making out like teenagers, Nerd Seminars and Shit, Non-Explicit Masturbation, lovers to friends to lovers again, miles is trans but its not mentioned it just Is, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrotfish_elliot/pseuds/parrotfish_elliot
Summary: Jack and Miles hadn't spoken face to face since they broke up (over the phone on the Fourth of July). They weren't quite ready for that streak to break, but it did.





	i'm gonna have to learn (that this love will never be convenient)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the result of me seeing that theres exactly 1 jiles fic on ao3 and almost starting to cry before realizing "wait. im a writer."
> 
> title from 'tattooed tears' by the front bottoms

Jack hadn’t seen his ex in four months and thirteen days. Sure, they’d spoken on the phone, and yeah, he may or may not have Googled him more than once in the past few months, but the point is, Jack hadn’t been in the same room as Miles since they broke up (over the phone on the Fourth of July), and that was fine. That was good, in fact, because it gave Jack time to twist the facts.

See, the facts are, Miles was an innocent victim in it all. The facts are, Jack, in a fit of despair and denial, broke up with Miles before going out to a party to get absolutely tanked. The facts are, he knew from Miles’ Twitter that he still wasn’t over it, and he cried for hours after Jack dumped him. The facts are, the softest cardigan in Jack’s closet was bought for him by Miles as a birthday present two years prior, and Jack still refused to throw it out because the “J+M” cheesily embroidered into the fabric still made him smile.

But those facts don’t help his story. The facts he abides by are that Miles used him to get his job, broke up with him rudely over the phone, and proceeded to make fun of him to Bill Nye while watching fireworks without a care in the world. If you asked Jack (which no one ever did), the only innocent victim in the dramatic affair of Jack-and-Miles was himself, and the letters on the cardigan in his closet stood for something entirely separate from them.

So no, he absolutely was _not_ prepared when Miles showed up unannounced in Toledo in the middle of October. Well, Toledo was a stretch. He showed up in Detroit, Michigan, 53 miles from Toledo, for a show. Said show had limited tickets that Jack pointedly did not buy, and yet somehow he found an email receipt for one VIP ticket to the Miles Leonard Seminar a week before the show, and well. It would be rude to waste such a pricey ticket, would it not?

Objectively, it very clearly was not Jack’s fault that he was on a bus to Detroit in his nicest clothes. Even more objectively, it was simply logical that he called for a sub to come in the day after, as it was only reasonable that he stay in Detroit overnight- staying in a city that was at least two steps up from Toledo was a treat, there was no other reason in his mind.

The VIP section of the ticket, from what Jack understood, was that he would get to “meet-and-greet” Miles after the seminar. He wasn’t really looking forward to that, but he also wasn’t looking forward to sitting ten feet away from the stage and staring up at Miles all night. Or at least that’s what he told himself as he walked into the venue and took his seat. That’s what he told himself when he made light conversation with the mother sitting next to him about Miles’ book. That’s what he told himself when she made a sly comment about thinking Miles is (her words) _incredibly_ ravishing and he agreed without a second thought.

And he’s man enough to admit that when Miles walked out on stage, his heart skipped a beat. He’s man enough to admit that when Miles spotten him in the crowd and choked over his words (very briefly, and imperceptibly enough that only someone close to him would notice) his hands began to shake. What he won’t admit, and never will, is that when Miles began his section on how love affects the perception of reality, he stood up and nearly ran out of the auditorium to hide in the bathroom until it was over.

He didn’t skip the meet-and-greet thing, though. The ticket appearing in his inbox had felt like a challenge, and he wasn’t about to lose the challenge just because of _feelings_ or whatever, so he marched himself outside, flashed his VIP badge at the security guy, and got in line with all the normal people to meet Miles, despite still remembering the night when they fucked so hard and for so long that Jack had to call in sick to work the next day. He felt stupid standing with these people who knew him about as well as he knew Bill Nye, but he also felt safer there, amongst people who he knew Miles was only talking to because he was being paid to, not because he enjoyed talking to strangers (he never had- it was usually endearing, or at least it used to be).

The line thinned out far too fast for his liking, and he could feel that Miles knew he was there. Maybe it was his narcissism talking, but the air seemed to grow tense the closer he got to the front of the line. He was acting nonchalant, scrolling through Twitter on his phone and pointedly not looking at the man he used to love, the man who was- fuck.

Right goddamn in front of him.

Without realizing it, Jack had reached the front of the line. His mouth went dry and his hands began shaking. He walked over to him and Miles visibly took a deep breath before launching into a very pretend meet-and-greet act. He smiled politely at Jack and offered his hand to shake, as if they more were strangers than anything else. When Jack accepted the hand, cautiously and carefully, Miles hissed at him under his breath.

“What the hell are you doing here, Jack? Shouldn't you be in Toledo?” He smiled while speaking through his teeth, his tone somehow both harsh and genuinely curious and polite. He was a contradiction and an enigma, and Jack felt himself fall into his comforting web all too easily.

He shrugged, unsure of how to answer. You can't exactly tell your ex that someone randomly gave you a VIP ticket to his show and you decided you had to go, after all. “Toledo is less than an hour away, I thought I'd stop by and say hi,” he said instead, trying to keep his tone even despite the hitch in his throat and the pain in his chest. Technically, he wasn't lying. He couldn't lie, Miles could always see right through his lies and manipulations.

Miles’ shoulders dropped, and Jack found himself tracking the movement and losing his focus at the thought of holding those shoulders again and kissing Miles’ perfect lips again and- and Miles is talking again and he missed a bit of it.

“- so self absself-absorbedu think you can just come and go wherever you please? This is my livelihood, you can't just show up and mess everything up!” His voice was low enough that no one but Jack could hear him, but Jack still found himself glancing around at the people in line.

He took a deep breath before attempting to justify himself. “Look, Mi, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and I should go now. But, uh, out of curiosity, what time does this whole thing end?” He couldn't help himself- he never could around the other man.

 Miles’ perfect smile finally dropped. “Goddammit, Jack, are you seriously asking me that? How dense can you be?” He was astounded and unamused by Jack's lack of reason or logic, but that didn't deter Jack for a second.

“Come on, Mi, just humor me?” He sounded desperate and whiney, even to his own ears.He couldn't name exactly why he wanted to know, just that he had to ask.

Miles sighed, easily giving in. It had never been all too hard to convince him to do anything. “I'm leaving in about an hour, but if you're that desperate for a conversation, my hotel is the Holiday Inn down the street, just wait in the lobby until I get there.”

Here's what Jack didn't do: say that he was staying at that same hotel anyways, kiss Miles on the cheek smoothly, and leave.

Here's what Jack _did_ do: stumbled out a messy “okay, thanks" then turned on his heel and left. He didn't plan on waiting in the lobby, not when he has a perfectly nice room waiting for him on floor three, and that's where he went.

He had an hour to spend and a lump in his stomach that most definitely wasn't from something he ate, so it was no surprise that the minute he got into his room, he locked the door, unbuttoned his dress pants, and got to work on distracting himself from Miles’ hair, and Miles’ lips, and Miles’ eyes, and-

If he was a good man, he would try not to get off to the thought of his ex who he’d be seeing in less than an hour. Unfortunately, Jack Griffin isn’t a good man in any capacity. A good man wouldn’t brace himself with one hand on the wall and one hand on his dick, panting the name of the only other person on earth who would ever understand him. A good man wouldn’t shout that name when he came, ignorant of the thin walls separating him from people who are trying to sleep. A good man most definitely wouldn’t check the time and immediately call said ex, voice still hoarse and dick still out, asking for a room number and only buttoning up again when he got one.

But again, Jack Griffin isn’t a good man, so he walked to Miles’ room with the top three buttons of his shirt undone, his hair a mess, and his eyes wild. He knocked on the door but hoped anyways that Miles wouldn’t answer. Unfortunately for him, Miles is nice and wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to him, even after everything that had happened.

When Miles opened the door and let Jack into his hotel room graciously, Jack found himself at a loss for words or actions. He had wanted to explain himself or at least apologize for being a disruption, but now that he was alone and only a foot away from the most objectively and unfairly beautiful man on the planet, neither of those things seemed all that important.

Before Miles could get a word in edgewise, Jack was shutting the door and taking Miles’ face in his hand before bringing their lips together- the first time they'd kissed since July. Miles, to his credit, only acted surprised for about ten seconds before relaxing and kissing back with as much force as Jack was giving. Anyone could tell that Miles missed Jack, missed him more than Jack missed Harvard (or more than Jack missed Miles, if you really want to go there).

It might’ve surprised someone who didn’t know Miles as well as Jack did when the happier and generally softer looking man shoved the other against the wall roughly, but Jack was used to this- this was how they used to argue, mouth on mouth and back to the wall, with Miles begging for an apology and getting tongue in response. Before he could get another thought in, Miles had one hand in his hair and another pressed teasingly by his thigh, and Jack was lost to the world.

They both knew they were being stupid and they both knew they wouldn’t stop. From the moment Miles saw him in the crowded auditorium earlier that night, it was clear to them that this would happen. They were inevitable, they were unpreventable, and they were each other’s worst addiction. All it took was a glance and they were gone, falling back into the familiar dance of body pressed against body and mouths eagerly asking to devour the other whole (and always being granted permission without a second thought).

A hand reached out and fumbled at the lock until it clicked, and then Jack was being pulled further inside and pushed back until his knees his the bed and he fell back. Not missing a beat or letting their mouths disconnect for a minute, Miles crawled onto the bed and straddled Jack's hips so he was looming over him.

They didn't dare go past kissing (deeply and passionately for a very long time) that night, too scared to ruin the tentative and dangerous spark igniting once more between them, but that didn't keep them from collapsing after about an hour out of exhaustion- two men in their early forties can only take so much physical exertion before they break. They laid back in Miles’ bed, Jack's head on the others shoulder and their hands linked in between them.

Miles was the first to dare speaking. “So we should probably talk about this-"

Jack cut him off with lips on his neck and hurried mumbled words. “Please don't ruin this by trying to _talk about it_ , Mi, save it for the morning. Please.” He punctuated every word with kisses and gentle bites to the base of Miles’ neck, right where he was sensitive. Miles sighed but didn't respond except for to turn his head so his nose was buried in Jack's mussed curls. They stayed like that, silent and twisted together, until they fell asleep.

They did talk about it in the morning, and they did agree that they couldn't be without the other. No, a full on relationship wasn't quite in the question yet, but they decided that they could settle on a cautious beginning to what might develop into getting back together. They spent the morning kissing and eventually getting up to take advantage of the free breakfast bar downstairs.

A day later, Jack walked into his classroom marked with bruises on his neck and a grin on his face and wrote a triumphant “4” on the board.

"Four,” he explained to the class, “is the amount of times, as of two days ago, that my rival Miles Leonard and I have broken up and gotten back together, and no, I'm not taking questions on that.”

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to ash for consistently giving me validation to keep writin this
> 
> follow me on tumblr @drdennisreynolds for more shitty jiles content lmao


End file.
